


A Logical Step

by walkandtalk



Series: A Logical Match 'verse [4]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Family, Humor, Kids, M/M, Married Couple, Oblivious James T. Kirk, Oblivious Spock, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-08-30 12:05:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8532382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkandtalk/pseuds/walkandtalk
Summary: “Just promise your old mom one thing, Jimmy.  Don’t run off and elope like Sam did.  I deserve at least one beautiful wedding in my lifetime.”"Sure, Ma,” Jim said, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I promise, a great big wedding, with the white dress and flowers and everything.  You’ll be in the front row.”Jim and Spock attempt to make it up to Winona Kirk. It ends up being not at all, but even better than, what Jim planned.Last installation to the Logical Match 'verse





	1. A Toast to the Happy Couple

**_Exactly one year ago..._ **

_ “So are you seeing anyone, Jimmy?” _

_ “Ma...” Jim sighed, rolling his eyes.  As far as Winona knew, Jim hadn’t “seen” anyone since the disaster that was his high school prom, which was probably true, depending on your definition of the word.  “I don’t have time for that, you know how it is.” _

_ “You are living proof that it is not impossible to find the time,” she said, eyes full of humor.  “Just promise your old mom one thing, Jimmy.  Don’t run off and elope like Sam did.  I deserve at least one beautiful wedding in my lifetime.” _

_ Jim barked a laugh.  “Like I’d ever get married.” _

_ “Promise me,” she insisted, steel in her voice. _

_ “Sure, Ma,” Jim said, shaking his head in disbelief.  “I promise, a great big wedding, with the white dress and flowers and everything.  You’ll be in the front row.” _

 

**Present day**

Jim woke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and disoriented.  He jumped a little when his eyes adjusted to notice a figure leaning over him, inches from his face.

“The hell, Spock!” he gasped, pushing him away so he could recover without the ignominy of being evaluated unawares.

“Jim…” Spock started, his tone slightly reproachful.

“Don’t start with me.”

“Jim, do you not think, perhaps-”

“Don’t weedle me either.”

Spock pressed his lips together, but allowed his eyes to speak volumes.  They continued like this, eye locked in a never-ending stare until Jim flung his arm over his face, capitulating.

“Say it.  I’m a terrible bondmate.  I’m a terrible son.”

Spock shook his head, gently extracting Jim’s arm away from his head to peer down at him, his expression somewhat softer.  “Jim, you cannot continue like this.  You must call her.”

Jim sighed.  “You’re right.  I’ll call her, today.”  He had, in his estimation, another two days until Winona Kirk went from annoyed to Red Alert Mother because Jim had avoided her communications.  “It’s just… so complicated.”

For the umpteenth time, Spock asked, “is there anything I may do to assist you?”

Jim looked at the chronometer and groaned.  “Shit, it’s late, isn’t it.”  He hopped out of bed and headed for the shower.  “Safety drill?” He shouted over the buzz of the sonic.

“In twenty minutes.” Spock’s answered, just on the other side of the shower doors.

“Coffee?”

“On the table.”

“Starfleet?”

“Has comm’ed you twice, as of last night.”

Jim stepped out, taking the offered uniform from Spock’s hands and gave him a kiss on the temple for his efforts.

“What would I do without you?” Jim asked.

“About the same, however with significantly less efficiency.”

Jim laughed and shrugged on his shirt and hopped into his uniform pants.

“Hey, I have an idea.”

Spock didn’t turn away mirror where he was studiously cleaning his teeth.  A slight meaningful pulse in the bond let Jim know he was wary of whatever Jim had to say.

“Let’s surprise her.  Our shore leave, let’s go down to Riverside and surprise her.  She’ll be so happy to see me, she won’t have time to be angry at us.”

“Angry at you,” Spock corrected.  “She had no reason to harbor any ire towards me.  I was not the one who decided to withhold the information of our bonding.”

“There were many good reasons for that,” Jim said.

“Debatable.”  Spock brushed a two fingered kiss along the inside of Jim’s wrist, making him smile.  “As this is your family, and I am, as you say, along for the ride, I will defer to your judgment.”

“You won’t regret it.”

\--

“This is it: the Kirk family farm.”  In the evening light, the white 20th century farmhouse looked almost spooky.  The wrap around porch looked like it had gotten a fresh coat of paint and the bush looked like it had been trimmed, but in the darkness Jim couldn’t quite tell.  Spock started to unbuckle himself but Jim put a staying hand on his chest before he exited the transport.

“Look, there’s something you need to know before you go in there,” Jim said, wiping his hands up and down his uniform pants.  “My mom is unusual.”  Spock didn’t comment, but Jim could read between the quizzical Vulcan brow.  “Yeah, apple didn’t fall from the tree, but you gotta understand, she’s... eccentric.  Loud.  Blunt.”

“I understand, Jim.”

“I know, just don’t think any less of me or my genetics,” he grinned and jumped out of the transport to bound up the walk to the farmhouse, Spock behind him in near lockstep.  “I swear, she’s harmless.”

Jim knocked on the door of the old white farmhouse.  He waited a minute, and then knocked again.  “Ma?  You home?”

“The house is dark, Jim,” Spock pointed out.

“Oh, well we’ll surprise her when she comes home,” Jim said, placing his hand on the biometric scanner.  His mouth dropped when the scanner flashed negative and didn’t allow him entry.

Jim growled under his breath.  “Spare key,” he muttered, dropping to all fours to feel along the wooden porch.  “Spare key.  Spare key.”

Spock watched Jim crawl along the floor in confusion.  “What are you doing?”

“She leaves a key sometimes, an old fashion thing to open the door.”  Jim started patting around the boards of the porch and laughed.  “Over here I decided to play with my mom’s training grav boots, and made it out of the house and crashed right through the porch right here.  Ma was so mad, but she refused to patch it, said it made a good booby trap for burglars or dumbasses.  Guess she finally fixed it.  Hey, I think there might be a key out by the bushes, one second.”

Jim vaulted off the porch and around the house and started rooting in the bushes under the kitchen window.  He never noticed the soft whirring of a second transport or the crunch of gravel under boot or that anyone was behind him at all until he felt said boot kick him squarely in the ass.

“Who are you and what are you doing on my property?” demanded an angry voice.  Jim was face down in the mud under the bushes, a foot planted firmly on his spine, now allowing him get up.

“Ma, it’s me!”

“Jimmy?”

“Yeah, c’mon Ma, let me up.”

The boot didn’t move, but Jim wasn’t surprised.  “And who are you?” the voice of his mother demanded, this time carrying away to the front of the house, where Spock surely was.

“Lieutenant Kirk, I am pleased to make your acquaintance.  I am Spock.”

“I remember, from Jimmy’s captaincy installation.” Winona repeated, wary.  “You brought work home, Jimmy?”

Jim winced, unknown if it was from guilt, embarrassment, or the steel toed boot wedged just south of his kidneys.

“Jimmy, what are you doing in the mud?”

“You put me there,” he wheezed, relieved when she finally removed her boot and allowed him to stand up.

He stood a full head above her, he was an adult, and technically outranked her, but none of that stopped him take a few steps back in defense as soon as he was upright.  “Now, Ma-”

“Don’t ‘Ma’ me, James Tiberius.  No calls, no warning, and now you just barge in here, hiding under the bushes.  You scared me half to death!”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, but I needed to talk to you.”

Winona let out a breath she had been holding in and stepped forward to gingerly pat Jim’s arm, the part not covered in mud and pricker bush.  “C’mon in and get washed.  You look like a toddler making mud pies.”

Several minutes later Jim stepped out of the guest bathroom considerably cleaner to see Spock and his mom sitting at the kitchen table with a mug of tea.  Winona pushed a mug in Jim’s direction.  Hot chocolate with marshmallows, their mutual favorite.

They hadn’t sat at this table together in years, Jim realized.  Most of his childhood Winona was one one ship or another, with him and his brother Sam planted firmly dirtside with whatever Kirk relation or step-father was willing to watching the farm and dearly departed George Kirk’s offspring.  The weeks when Winona was on shore leave were devoted to spending time with her boys, usually around this table.  The last ten years, Sam had taken off and Jim didn’t have much interest in staying in one place for very long.

Winona had changed too.  She was still wearing her ‘Fleet issued grey and red engineering jumper and boots, obviously just coming off a shift at the Riverside shipyard.  Her blonde and silver hair was now cut into a bob that curled around her ears.  She leaned over the table, hands around her her mug, looking intently at Jim, but not unkindly.

“So, Spock says you are taking your whole leave together.”

Jim refused to meet Spock’s  _ tell her _ eyes.  “Yeah.”  He took a large, long sip of cocoa, humming his appreciation.  “That’s good, thanks Ma.”

“How long are you planning on staying?”

“That’s up to you, I guess.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t pursue the comment.  “Well, I’m glad you’re home, because there was something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about, which you would know if you’d bother to answer my comms,” Winona said pointedly.  Jim refused to squirm but dropped his mug on the table, prepared to listen.  “Jimmy, you’ve entered a new stage in your life.  You’re my son, and I love you, but I think if we can just be frank, and talk about the changes we’ve had here…”

Jim stilled.   _ She knew _ .

“I’ve already started to box up your stuff in your bedroom.  I didn’t want you to feel like you were being pushed out, but I think you understand you’re life isn’t here, it’s up there.”  Winona gestured to Spock.  “I think you understand, right?”

Spock nodded and Jim gave a cautious smile.  “I should've known you’d know,” Jim said with admiration.  “I told Spock you’d know.”  Lies.  “I’m sorry you found out this way, but  _ wheew _ , that takes a long of stress of my shoulders.”

Winona narrowed her eyes.  “Knew what?”

_ Oh crap.   _ “About… the… Spock.  And me.”

“You and Spock…”  Winona set her mug next to Spock’s and turned to him.  “What is he trying to say?”

Jim received the equivalent of a mental shove from his bondmate, prompting him to blurt: “Ma, I got married.”

“Married.”

“To Spock.”

“To Spock?” Jim nodded, fighting a prepubescent urge to inch his chair back so he could get a running start to hide in the tall corn fields.  Winona recognized the move and clamped a firm hand on the back of his chair, holding him in place. “When did this happen?”

Jim rubbed the back of his neck.  “Two?”

“Two… days?”

“Months.”

Winona was quiet for a few moments.  “You married your first officer two months ago.” Jim nodded.  “And you’re just now telling me.”  He nodded again.  

They waited a moment, which stretched out uncomfortably across the kitchen table.  Winona sighed, got up out of her chair, and walked into the living room.

Jim expected some fair amount of yelling and throwing of things.  He would have taken a grounding or an ass kicking out the back door, but a quiet Winona wasn’t something he ever anticipated.  When she walked back in, it was much worse than he thought.  “It’ll be okay,” he said, more to himself than Spock.

She set a large bottle of amber liquid and three large tumblers on the table with a careless thump.  

“Gentlemen, let’s toast.”


	2. Open Bar

Initially, Jim took a small glass of the whiskey to appease his mother.  He would have done anything to take that unconcerned look off her face.  Winona didn’t say much, never commented on the recent nuptials, just sipped her drink and poured another.  As she finished her second and started to pour her and Jim a third, Spock excused himself to go observe the agriculture outside (in the pitch black of night). He sending a small wave of support and love, letting his bondmate know that he was simply giving Jim and Winona some time alone to really talk, unfettered by Spock’s presence.  Jim loved him a little more for his constant quiet understanding.

Winona gave the back kitchen door a speculative look when Spock left through it.  “So, tell me about your  _ husband _ .”

So he did, gladly: the sa-kali’farr, Jim’s unsuccessful stint as Spock’s pe’le’ut’la, Elder Spock, the nefarious Christmas elf, and their unexpected shot-gun bonding on New Vulcan.  It was a lot more amusing when Jim retold it, and wondered if he should, in fact, write it down.  He wondered his book idea aloud, Winona agreed, but Spock had been eavesdropping and his personal negative response sounded through their mental bond  Oh well.  It probably wasn’t that funny anyway, everything was more amusing when Jim drank that much whiskey.

“You did this on purpose,” Jim accused, jabbing his finger at Winona, who was leaning very far in her chair, a look of bemusement on her face.  “You got me drunk on purpose.”

“Why would I do that?”

“I don’t know, but you did!”  Jim reached for the bottle to refill his glass, but was surprised to see it had barely enough for a single refill. Huh.

Winona and Jim had gotten blinding drunk together on three other occasions.  Once, on his 21st birthday which was the 21st anniversary of George Kirk’s death.  She told him many things about his father that he had always asked but never got to hear, and their drunken tell all was one of his more fond memories.  Once at his cousin Rayna’s wedding, mostly because Jim and Winona couldn’t stand the extended Kirk side of the family and they had to do something to make the night more bearable.  Finally, the night Winona had to bail Jim out of jail for disorderly conduct ten hours before she was to report for duty on the  _ Epsilon _ .  She got him drunk (all over again) made him lay out his life plan and hash out the anger he still harbored again her, Sam, Frank, Iowa, and everything.  He credited that night and his mother for planting the seed to compel him to take up Pike’s suggestion to join Starfleet.

“Do we need to be drunk to talk?” Jim asked, emotionally sobered by the thought.

Winona frowned.  “No, but like your grandpa Jim said, it cuts through the bullshit quicker than acid.  I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t going to get through most of your shore leave with you dancing around me like you ran over the dog.”

“I’m sorry, Ma.  I should have told you.”

Winona gave a huff.  “I know you, Jim.  You’ve got itchy feet and a heart as big as a moon crater and you’d never try to hurt me, but I am hurt, a little.”

Jim dropped his head a little.  “You know it was never about you, but all that frilly stuff, it’s so… not us.”  He even hard a hard time saying the word.   _ Wedding _ .

“It’s not about you, it’s about family.  It’s about sharing your love with all the other people you love.  I want to see my little boy in love, and sharing that love with others.”  Winona eyes became brighter with emotion that twisted Jim’s gut a few more times.

“Oh, Ma…” and shuffled himself to sling an arm over her narrow shoulders and she slumped her head onto his shoulder.

“I regretted not having a big wedding with your father and everyone with us,” she admitted.  “It didn’t make our marriage any less special to me, but it would have been a memory for us… for the family that never got to meet him. But we had something better.  We had you and Sam.” Winona frowned at Jim’s unimpressed expression.  “You won’t be young forever, Jim.  A starship can be a wonderful place to raise a child nowadays.  I wish I’d had taken that option when you boys were young.  I haven’t always been the most present parent,” Jim squeezed her arm in protest, “thank you, but we both know I could have been around more, and now I’m looking back on my life in this house and wondering if I didn’t spend enough time cherishing what really mattered with the boys that mattered most.”

He didn’t have much to say about that, he had often wondered it a bit himself, now that he was a captain. How hard would it have been just to bring Sam and him along sometimes? 

“Okay, we’ll do it.”

Winona perked up.  “What?”

“We can do… you know, the whole big thing. The whole kit and caboodle, one time offer.  We’ve got a couple weeks of shore leave, nothing really planned, I bet we could do it here.”

His mother broke out into a giddy smile.  “Oh, Jimmy, you mean it?”

Jim grinned back, and then remembered in his haze, “I better check with Spock.  But I think he’d be okay with it.”

“You could do it here, I still have some of those outfits, too,” she mused.  “I wonder if any of the cousins knows a good holographer-”

“Your cousins? We’re inviting the cousins?”

“Now Jim, they’re family.”

“Yeah, weird extended family.  That’s saying something coming from us.  I’m not much for all that family stuff anyway.”

“Family is you, Jim. You are a wonderful son and brother.  And husband.  And you’ll be a great father one day.”

“Whoa!” Jim said, throwing up his hands.  “One thing at a time.”

\--

By the time he started up the stairs to go to bed, he was just starting to sober up enough to start regretting volunteering for a big white wedding. He made it up the stairs and got to his childhood bedroom with very little stumbling involved until he opened his door.

“What the hell is this?”

His room, which had largely gone untouched, had gone from teenage tinkerer space to a sterile guest room.  Gone were the posters and shelves of real paper books, the lamp he welded together in primary school, the Andorian chronometer that changed colors with the growing seasons and dew points.  Even his old dresser was gone, replaced with the one that was in Sam’s old bedroom.

At least the double bed was still there, now dressed in fresh neutral linens and plump pillows that looked like they’d never been used.  He walked over to the stacks of books and opened the first lid, happy to see that his book collection had been saved.  The next box revealed old clothes, and the next were old holos of concerts he had gone to in high school.

When Spock came in, Jim was still rooting around boxes, trying to find the chonometer.

“Wow,” Jim said, holding up a picture of him and his brother Sam, fifteen years younger.  “Check out those pants.  That’s a style that’s never coming back.”

Spock looked at the picture and set their duffel bags on the end of the bed.  “He looks like you.”

“Yeah, a little.” Sam took after Winona, but Jim looked like George Kirk.  At least, that’s what the extended Kirk family said.

“Your mother spoke to me downstairs,” Spock said.

“Did she mention my big idea?”  Spock nodded, his expression neutral, which made Jim unexpectedly nervous.  “So… what did you think?”

It wasn’t often that he could surprise his unflappable Vulcan, but it was obvious Spock wasn’t anticipating the question.  His jaw went slack and eyebrows shot up to his hairline.

“You suggested it?”

“I know it’s a bit surprising, coming from me.”  Jim fiddled with the box lid.  “I mean, if I ever was… now seems like the right time, you know?”  Spock still looked startled.  “Hey, if you don’t want to, that’s okay.  I’m not looking to push you into anything you’re uncomfortable with, I just thoughts, since we’re here…”

“Yes.”

Jim smiled.  “Yes?  With the whole family thing and everything?”

“I am perfectly amenable, it was you who I assumed was not interested.”

“I’m interested!” Jim said, now bouncing up from the floor.  “Wow.  Well, we don’t have much time, what should we try to tackle first?”

“I will contact Starfleet,” Spock said, still sounded stunned.

“Great.  I’ll take care of the family and the ceremony and arrange for… wow, whatever we need to do.” Jim laughed, still dazed.  “I’ve never done this before.”

“Neither have I,” Spock said dryly.  “However, your mother seemed interested in helping with the preparations.”

“The more I think of it, the more excited I am," he said, vision of Spock in a sharp tux and all his friends in their dress uniforms.  It seemed right.  "I’m glad we're doing this.”

Spock reached out, brushing his fingers against Jim’s jaw.  “As am I, ashayam.  As am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Billy Idol's White Wedding was playing in my head the entire time I wrote this.
> 
> So, Spock and Jim in dress uniform? Tux? Sandals and beach shorts in the spring cornfields? State your preferences :-)


	3. Engraved Invitations

“I don’t have a hangover.”

Spock looked over at Jim, bathed in the late morning light of his childhood bedroom window. The Vulcan seemed unconcerned as he rummaged around one of the boxes near the door, looking freshly showered and dressed.

“Are you concerned about the lack of a hangover?” he asked drolly.

Jim glowered, feeling more alert than he had any right to be after splitting an entire bottle of stars-knows-what with his mother last night.  “No, just curious.”

“Doctor McCoy sent some provisions with me.  I took the liberty of using them last night.”

After he passed out, Jim assumed.  The last thing he remembered was insisting that he and Spock look for his old football gear because Jim thought Spock would like to observe the protective equipment to see if any features could be added to the omni environmental suits.  “Thank you.  I feel awesome.  A shower and some coffee, and I’ll be ready to tackle the day.”

He swung his legs out of bed and ambled out the door, trailing a brief two-fingered kiss along Spock’s neck.

“What would I do without you?”

“The same you always do, but with a hangover.”

Jim laughed his way into the bathroom and was still laughing until he remembered the shower was a real water shower and forgot heating element needed a few seconds to engage.

He hollered and didn’t dignify Spock’s crashing into the bathroom with his stoic Vulcan concern with a single answer.

-

They settled at the farm house’s kitchen table once more.  Winona had made pancakes and coffee, which Jim accepted with a grateful groan, and she marched out with a cheery “I’ll just be working in the garage, so you boys have fun!”  She gave Jim a peck on the cheek and patted Spock on the head, disrupting his perfect bangs.

“We’re definitely in her good graces,” Jim said around a mouthful of pancakes and maple syrup.

“For now,” Spock remarked sagely.  “Your mother suggested we partake in shopping to create a list to to add to a gift registry.”

Jim sighed.  “It’s a silly Earth tradition.  We can always replicate whatever we need, this whole thing isn’t about the material gifts.”

“No it is not,” Spock agreed.  “However, it is a chance for your loved ones a chance to perform a small act of support for our new family.”

Jim immediately softened.  He hadn’t been thinking of them as a family, and rolled the word over in his mind.  He and Spock, a little family/command team of two.  He liked it.

“We need to go shopping in either case,” Spock pointed out.  “We’ll need clothing.”

Jim conceded the point. “And food and decorations and probably fifty other things I’m not thinking about.”

“Should we divide our efforts to conquer?”

Jim nodded, taking another restorative gulp of coffee.  “Yes, please.  What do you want to do?”

“Decorations, legal arrangements, and I’ll coordinate arrangements with Mr. Scott and Dr. McCoy.”

“Scotty and Bones?” he asked, puzzled.

“I believe Mr. Scott’s engineering experience would be useful in this situation, and Dr. McCoy’s presence I thought would be self explanatory.”

Jim smiled.  The doctor was finally was growing on his Vulcan.  “Okay, yeah.  I’ll take arranging the food and those things you send out...”

“Invitations?”

“Yeah, those. Maybe Ma could help--”

“I’ll help!” Winona’s voice called from the communicator in the kitchen wall.  Jim jumped.

“Jeez, Ma, what are you doing, listening in on this thing from the garage? I’m not seventeen anymore, you can trust me alone with my husband in the kitchen.”

“I’d be happy to help, Jimmy,” she said, ignoring his insinuation. 

“I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything more that what you’re already doing for us,” Jim started.

“Now, Jim, you promised…”

He looked at Spock, who nodded slightly.  “Yes, thank you.  I’d appreciate the help.”

“You’re going to need it!  Take it from someone who’s done it twice.”

Jim made a face, remembering his ex-stepfather and his memories of that wedding.  It was a distinctly rowdy affair, and not in a fun way, with most of Winona’s cousins overwhelming Frank’s stuffy side of the family.  “I’d rather not have a repeat of the second time, thank you.”

Winona just laughed.

-

Davenport, Iowa was their best bet for creating a wedding registry.  Jim said they could do it just as well via the ‘link, but Winona insisted they’d want to physically touch the items, holos just weren’t going to the experience justice.

“So, when are we going to tie this knot?” Jim asked as they rode the transport to the Davenport Mercantile Center.  Spock had spent the entirety of their drive furiously sending comm’s, arranging what he was delegated with the same ruthless efficiency he normally set aside for crew performance reviews.  Jim could only assume he had the entire wedding ceremony down to the nanosecond.

“Tie the knot?” Spock asked, perplexed.

“Terran idiom.  The big day, when do you think we should we do it?”

“Saturday, at noon.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up.  “That’s less than 48 hours from now.”

“All should be arranged by then,” Spock pointed out reasonably.  “Why wait?”

“No reason at all, when you put it that way.” Jim smiled broadly.  “I love you.”

Spock’s eyes softened, a soft pulse of affection fed through the bond.  “And I, you.”

“So, Saturday at noon, you’re buying the cow.  You’re sure you’re ready?” Jim asked, winking.

“Buying the cow?”

“Just another idiom.”

When they arrived at the shopping center, even Jim was surprised by the sheer number stores.  Spock left Jim to stare at the giant interactive shopping map and returned with two handheld scanners.

“I estimate that if we visited only the relevant commercial areas, it would take nineteen hours.”

Jim sighed.  “Divide and conquer?”

Spock nodded, handing Jim his little scanner to catalog their registry items.  “I will take levels eight through seventeen, you will take the lower.”

“Away missions rules, Mister Spock: keep lines of communication open and no one gets left for dead here.”

Spock just blinked at him, but Jim knew, through their bond, that he was amused.

\--

Three hours later, Jim sat in front of the computer console at the invitation store kiosk, staring at the distressing number of options for invitations.  Galaxy Prints promised same-hour delivery to anywhere in the Alpha Quadrant in of any number of hologram or realia invitations, including sing-a-grams and live animal pre-party favors.

Scotty and Keenser would shit twin bricks if everyone got a Tribble with their wedding invite.

“May I help you, sir?” a clerk asked, obviously picking up on Jim’s increasingly overwhelmed vibe.

Jim gestured to the kiosk, no less than four dozen images spread out on the screen. He couldn’t even form the words to explain his dilemma. 

“No worries, sir,” the clerk chirped.  “I see you have a gift registry.  If you’ll just allow us to download your information from the registry, we can pick the perfect invitation to coordinate with any registry theme.”

Jim blinked.  “Seriously?”

“Oh yes, sir. We have a proprietary algorithm that will ascertain the interests of the happy couple, based on the information you provided the registry, and produce the most appropriate invitation for the occasion.”

“Just like that?”

“Just one of our many modern conveniences.  I assume your guest list comms have been linked.”

Of course Spock, with the help of Winona, had a spreadsheet of all invited crewmen and Jim’s family uploaded before they arrived.

“Hey, can I do that scanning thing with arranging catering, too?”

\--

In the end, Jim was terrible at gift registering.  He waded through mountains of Andorian china, Terran homewares, crystal from Betazed, and couldn’t see he or Spock owning any of it. He only found one thing he really, really wanted: a genuine Klingon bat’leth.  He’d wanted once since he was a boy, and seeing as Spock had a lirpa hanging in their quarters, Jim thought he might get a little leeway on this one, so he scanned it and called it quits.

When they made it to the transport, Spock informed him that every item on his list was complete, save a few minor details to iron out with Starfleet (what, Jim didn’t care to know… he was on shore leave, dammit) and Jim had handled catering and invitations thanks to the marvelous invention gift registries.

By the time they made it home, it was well past dinner and they had less than 30 hours until the big day, but Jim was feeling pretty good about it.  Leave it to Spock to realize dragging out the planning would only lead to more headaches.

When they got home, Winona was on the holocomm in the living room, talking animatedly to another woman.

“Oh, that’ll be Jim and Spock.  Boys, come say hi to Aurelan and Sam!”

Jim ducked his head into the frame behind Winona.  “Hey, the boys?”

“Oh, we’re great, just great.” the petite woman gushed.  “We just heard big news, congratulations!”

“Yeah, congrats Jimmy,” Sam said, smiling like Jim had just made admiral.  “It’s wonderful, really wonderful for you two.”

Jim grinned, feeling proud in a way he really hadn’t expected.  He drug Spock by the arm into the holocomm field.  “Thanks. Spock, this is my brother and his wife Aurelan, parents of the best nephews in the quadrant.”

“Uncle Jim!” one of the aforementioned boys yelled, bouncing into the view of the screen.  “Uncle Jim, it’s me!”

“Peter!” Jim crowed, happy to see the little blonde tyke. “You’ve grown a whole foot! How old are you? Ten?”

“I’m four, and Alex is two and mommy and daddy are old.” Peter kept bouncing up and down, almost careening into an exasperated Aurie. “And guess what? We’re in Luna City right now! We’re going to come see you and Spot!”

“Spock,” Jim automatically corrected.  “You’re coming down to Earth? That’s great!”

Sam nodded. “We just happened to be visiting the family in Luna, if you ever bothered taking my comms.”

Jim pointed ignored Winona’s pointed looks.  “That’s really great, can’t wait to see you guys.”

“It’ll be great to meet you in person, Spock,” Sam added.  “We can really welcome you to the family.”

“Nothing too crazy,” Jim warned, picturing what kind of welcome Sam and family could have planned.

“Of course not,” Sam said serenely, the same way he would assure Jim as kids that the security field really was deactivated on the liquor cabinet before Jim got electroshocked.

“Bye Uncle Jim!  By Uncle Spot!”

\--

The next morning Spock left early to consult with Scotty about something, Spock had mentioned what but Jim was too tired to compute what he might have heard.  By the time he got out of bed, the morning was half gone (dirtside time was so weird) and Spock was nowhere to be found but Winona catching up on newsvids in the living room.

“You’ve got deliveries on the table,” Winona said, gesturing to the boxes and bags.  “The decorations, I think.”

Jim glanced at the pastel boxes, all wrapped in delicate pink ribbon and made a face.  He opened the bag and pulled out two figurines, one of a puffy white sheep and another of a pig, pink curly tail and all.

“Oh, I get it,” he said, feeling a strange mix of horror and amusement.  “We’re having a  _ farm themed wedding _ .  On a farm.  Original.”

“What did you say, Jimmy?”

“Did you see this?” he asked, holding up the tiny sheep cake topper.

Winona beamed, her face going soft and gooey over the little puffy doll.  “Isn’t it precious?”

“You are nuts.  Am I supposed to be the sheep or the pig?”

“The pig,” a voice said definitively from the kitchen door.  “Definitely the pig.”

Jim tossed the figurines back in the bag to clap his best friend on the back.  “Bones! Glad you made it.”

“Like I’d like you do this alone,” the doctor said, dropping three more boxes on the table. “Glad someone was thinking about calling in an expert.  You and Spock are clueless.”

“Expert?” Jim asked incredulously.

“Hey, I’ve done this rodeo once, which is more than enough of an education, thank you very much.  I just wish I’d had a sage doctor guiding me. Trust me, you’ll both me thanking me for it.”

Jim rolled his eyes.  “I think Spock and I have everything set. Everyone just needs to show up in tomorrow.”

“And you think the rest will just take care of itself?”

“Exactly.”

“Famous last words.”


	4. The Best Day of Our Lives

“Oh, honey, you look wonderful,” his mother gushed.  “Just like your father.”

Jim plastered on a phoney smile.  He looked ridiculous.  No one would want to be caught dead in the frilly ivory tuxedo his mother had pulled out of the closet, but he couldn’t say that.  It would break his mother’s heart.

“Now, we just need-”

“No.”

“But if you’d just-”

“No, ma.”

Winona looked down at the stuff giraffe she was holding.  “Really?  But it’s so cute.”

“I think we can agree it will put the whole thing over the top.”

She pursed her lips and nodded, taking her cue from the music to make her way to her seat facing gazebo out back, where Spock and a petite wedding officiant stood waiting for Jim to join them.

By the time Jim marched himself to the gazebo-turned-wedding altar, the nerves had started to kick in.  Spock hadn’t made eye contact with him yet, probably feeling a little uncomfortable and overwhelmed as well.  The introduction and words were a blur until the officiant turned to Jim and intoned solemnly:

“And do you, James, take Spot as your wedded partner?”

Jim froze.  “Excuse me?”

“Spot.”

Jim glanced over to Spock, who didn’t seem to notice, his placid expression unchanged.  “Spock, you mean?” he muttered.

“Spot,” the officiant repeated, nodding enthusiastically.  “Spot! Spot! Spot!”

Jim woke up to a pair of grubby hands pawing at his face.  “Wake up, Uncle Jim! Wake up Spot!”

It was a testament to years of training that he did not pick up the small being that startled him awake and throw it against the wall.  “Peter, get off your uncle,” a deep authoritative voice said from somewhere by Jim’s feet.  “I said you could wake him, not murder him.”

“Wha-- where?”

“Good morning, punk,” his brother said, wearing a shit-eating grin and a fuzzy maroon sweater and horn-rimmed glasses, looking more like the Terran lit professor than ever.  “Everyone’s downstairs and breakfast is already finished.  You weren’t planning on sleeping in and making Spock do all the hard work, where you?”

Peter shot off the bed, shouting and bouncing down the stairs, leaving Jim alone with Sam.

“Hey,” Jim said, his mind still blurry.

“Spock said you’d want this,” Sam said, shoving a mug of liquid life under his nose.

“Uuuuunnnn,” Jim agreed, drinking half of it in one go.  “Thank you.”

“Don’t remember you being such a later sleeper.”

Jim shook his head. “I’m still adjusting to our mental bond.” Sam frowned at him, concerned. “I’m sleeping better than I ever have, but it takes some getting used to. Spock and I can create the mental walls a lot better, but it takes practice and I need the full night’s sleep. And the coffee.”

“Is that weird, having the,” Sam gestured to his head, wiggling his fingers.

“Sometimes,” Jim admitted. “But mostly it’s convenient. He knows me better than anyone. Sometimes I don’t even have to say anything, he just knows what I’m thinking. Or what I’m about to think.”

“Poor guy, I bet your brain waves are confusing as hell.”

Jim slugged him in the shoulder.  “Shut up, assface.”

“Make me,” Sam countered, grabbing him in a headlock.

“Not the coffee!” he shouted, barely able to save the mug before his brother had him pinned into his pillow.  A brief wrestling match the mug was not saved and neither was the lamp on the nightstand. Sam was no match for Jim's trained skills, but he was still a faster running, bouncing down the stairs and leaving Jim alone in the bedroom with coffee and pieces of glass on the floor, promising to save him some breakfast. Jim made quick work with the cleaning servo in the hallway and grabbed a shower, excited about the day ahead.

When he made it downstairs to help outside with setting up and maybe see if there were any pancakes left. Winona was bouncing little Alexander at the kitchen table.

“There’s your uncle!” she coo’ed at the bald toddler still dressed in striped pajamas.

“Un’l,” Alex said, raising his hands for syrup-covered high fives.

“Hey, kiddo. Have you seen Spock?”

“He left this morning with that Scottish man. Your friends are in the back.”

Jim peeked out the kitchen window to see Bones lounging on the rocker, directing Uhura and Keenser with pastel green and yellow bunting.

“How’s that going?”

“They said to stay away from the backyard until they were finished.  I think they’ve got it in hand, but you are on babysitting duty. We figured you’d better get used to it.”

Jim smiled, a familiar feeling warming him as he waved at Alex, who looked to be either too sleepy or shy to approach him just yet.  A large thump rattled the house a bit, and the voices of Keenser and Chekov could be heard arguing or laughing, it was hard to tell.

“No family like crew,” Winona said.

“No family like crew.”

\--

“When’s it gonna happen?”

“In five hours.”

“How many minutes is that?”

“Three hundred.”

Peter swung his feet back and forth, trying to get Jim to move the porch swing faster.  “Is that a lot?”

“Yes.”

“Is it more than four?  I’m four.”

Before he could answer, Peter was off another tangent. “Where is Spot?”

“Spock,” Jim repeated, “his name is Spock.  And I have no idea where he is.”

“Will Spot play with me?” the little boy asked.  The door opened beside them, distracting Peter.

“Oh honey,” Sam said, finally coming out of the farm house and scooping his son up and taking his spot beside Jim, “Spot isn’t going to be ready to play with you just yet.”

Jim rolled his eyes.  “You too?”

Sam grinned.  “It’s a cute. You should think about it: Spot Kirk.”

Jim made a face.  “Nah. Sounds like a dalmatian.”

“Have you thought about names? Are you hyphenating or something?”

Jim shook his head vehemently. “I can’t physically pronounce Spock’s family name, so I’m not going purposely inflict that on myself.”

Sam played with Peter’s hair as he snuggled on his lap comfortably. “This is great, by the way.  Really, really great, baby bro.”

Jim smiled, slapping Sam’s leg. “Hey, no big deal.”

“It’s not every day the Kirk family gets to add another to the roster.”

“Well don’t expect anything like this ever again,” Jim said, not wanting to move until Ma hollered for him to look at the invitations that had finally arrived.  “This is a one time thing.”

Sam laughed, stood up and flipped Peter upside down and dangled him by his feet.  Peter squealed and struggled, delighted. “Oh yeah, sure.  That’s what they all say.”

\--

Jim rubbed his eyes, trying to stave off an oncoming headache.  The invitations, which were delivered yesterday but just now appeared at the farmhouse where not what Jim had pictured when he signed up to have them designed by a magical algorithm.  In friendly black print marched the words:

Please Join

Jim Kirk & S’chn T’gai Spock

In the creation of their family unit

It was complete with little animated bat’leths spinning around the yellow fluffy baby ducklings.

“What is this?” his mother asked, horrified.

“Ugh, the algorithm at the store, it must have gotten confused.” Jim silently blamed Spock and his tiny farm animal shopping spree, but wasn’t that impressed by the bat’leths either.  “It’s not so bad.”

“Well, they won’t mistake who’s kid it is.”

“Yep,” Jim agreed.  “This has Kirk written all over it.”

“Well, Kirk and… how do you pronounce his last name?”

“I’m still practicing.  I promised by our tenth anniversary I’d get it right.”

Winona smirked.  “Your poor kids. You’re going to have to figure that one out sooner than later.”

Jim just smiled, allowing Alex to climb up his leg.  “Hey big guy.  What do you think of our invitations?”

"Duckies!"

"Yeah, my thoughts exactly."

“Pay’tip pay’tip!”

“Space ship?” he whooped, scooping him up and lifting him above his head, making zooming noises, running through the living room while the little boy giggled, Peter trailing behind making “pew pew pew!” noises behind him.  “Here comes Alexander for a landing!”

“There is no noise in the vacuum of space,” a dry voice commented from the stairs.

Jim looked up to see Spock, dressed in his ‘Fleet greys.  Jim gave him a brief appreciative once over.  “It's for dramatic effect, of course.  One always needs a few sound effects,” Jim said seriously, balancing a squirming toddler over his head.  “Nnnnyyyyyyeeerrrrrrr!”  He leaned over to peck him on the lips, but Alexander had gotten there first, grabbing Spock’s head with both hands, getting a firm grip on his pointed ear.  “Hey, let go buddy.  Gentle hands.”

Spock lifted his hands to take Alexander with a deftness Jim never really associated with his husband. He swung the toddler body to nestle along his side as Jim stood a couple steps below, looking up at Spock with a little surprise at how naturally he willingly scooped up the perpetually sticky child.

Alex had let go of Spock’s ears in favor of playing with the patches on Spock’s uniform.  “Blue,” Alexander said seriously, poking at an insignia.

Spock nodded.  “Lieutenant Commander,” he replied solemnly.  Alexander nodded in understanding, now more interested in the buttons along Spock’s neck.  Spock glanced down to where Jim stood, dumbstruck by the fondness and happiness and… something a lot like longing. He couldn’t quite tell who was feeling what, signals crossing and amplifying into something so joyous he’d never quite experienced before until he just had to say-

“You look good with kids,” Jim blurted. “I mean, you are good with kids.  And you look good.”

Spock tilted his head as if trying to figure out the exact equation Jim had derived his observation. “Thank you. I wanted to tell you I have one more meeting with the shipyard in Riverside, but I will be back by 1700 hours.”

“More retrofitting?”

Spock nodded.  “I suspect there will be more to request, but as best as we can project in the next five years.  I’ve asked for staff for a nursery and educational center.”

Jim blinked.  “That’s very progressive.” Exceptionally progressive. “Do you think many people would want to take Starfleet up on those services?”

Spock bounced Alex in his arms effortlessly, making Jim wonder if Spock had been on babysitting duty before. “Mr. Sulu had indicated his family would consider it. Ensign Ugu is expecting in two months.”

“Five years is a long time,” Jim mused, adding a little shyly  “We might have a couple of these little guys.”

“Two?” Spock asked, sounding surprised.

“It’s less work than just one or even three, I’ve heard,” Jim added, emboldened by Spock radiating curiosity and happiness at Jim’s suggestion.

Alex started to wiggle and Spock set him down at the bottom of the stairs and let him kangaroo hop to the couch where Peter was practicing headstands.  “I would be happy with just one, to start.”

Jim couldn’t stop the smile on his face.  “Okay.”

\--

“It just doesn’t seem real,” Jim mused, still amazed at the transformation of the backyard.  Uhura and Scotty were arguing with Aurelan about how many chairs to a table needed to be arranged, Peter was on “stick duty” collecting as many stray twigs from the lawn as he could find and hurling them into a pile near the corn field.  The pastel tables each had little gardenia centerpieces with tiny little boots.  Farm boots?  He couldn’t tell.  He’d have to get Spock to explain the theme to him, it really didn’t make any sense.

Sam grinned and clapped his brother on the back. “It’ll seem real enough very soon.”

A large delivery transport pulled up to the house, backing up into the driveway.

“I have a delivery for Mr. Spock,” the woman said.  A large crate, too small to be the portable bar and too large to be a ring barer floated on the hoverlift outside the porch.  “Please sign here to accept the delivery, and here to waive the genetic screening, on account of the rush job.”

“Genetic counseling?” Jim repeated, surprised.

He signed for it and was just about to ask what it was when Bones directed her to drop it off in the gazebo.  “Cutting it a little close, aren’t you?” the doctor grumbled at the woman.  “The big reveal is in a couple hours.”

“As you might imagine, we don’t get next day requests frequently,” she snarked back. “Most couples spend months or years on the waiting list.”

“The perks of celebrity,” Bones muttered. “I’ll take it from here.  You just make sure you’re ready

“If I don’t show up, you can just take my place, right?”

“In a pig’s eye!”

\--

Jim walked down the stairs to see his mother dressed in a camel colored shift and hair styled back off her face and putting on her earrings in front of the hall mirror.  “A hand?” she asked, handing him her matching necklace.  He obliged, fumbling a little with the clasp around her neck

“You look beautiful, Ma,” Jim said, earning himself an indulgent smile and a pat on his cheek, and then a critical look at his grubby casual clothes.

“Why aren’t you ready?”

“I was just going to get dressed.  Where are those clothes you were talking about the other day?”

“You want them now?”

Jim blinked, confused.  “Yeah? Why not now?”

She shook her head, disbelieving.  “They’re in your old closet, the boxes on the bottom.  You’d better hurry.”

“Thanks!” he said, taking the steps two at a time.  He found the boxes in no time, ripping open the first one and pulled out a shirt that looked dressy enough for a wedding...

If he was a newborn baby.  He dug out another and another, all much too small, until he was down at the bottom with nothing to show but his old baby clothes.

The next box wasn’t any help either, filled with holos of him as a baby and a small stuffed giraffe he thought he called Giraffey.

He stared at the holos of him, Sam, and Winona, grinning up at the camera or hanging off Winona’s neck. Others showed a glowing Winona dressed in her ‘Fleet uniform, holding baby Jim on an uninstalled reactor coil or being held by crew long split, judging by the dated uniforms and vague memories of his mother serving on the Chesterton and the Mi’zoj when he was little.  He held Giraffey, staring at him and the baby clothes until the pieces of the mental puzzle started to slide into place.

_The pastel boxes of baby farm animals. The little boots. Spock retrofitting the habitation deck for a nursery._

_“Have you thought about names?"_

_“You’ll be a great father.”_

_“Our new family.”_

**_The baby-fricken-ducklings._ **

There was a soft knock on the door, ripping Jim from the memories.  He looked into his partner, his husband, his sa-telsu and wondered how he hadn’t realized it before now. Spock was practically glowing with it.

“We’re going to have a baby?”

Spock tilted his head again, this time completely confused.  “Jim, what did you think we were doing?”

\--

Three hours later, Jim and Spock and what was left of their guests stood around the waist-height incubator, staring at it in wonder. It had been a brief ceremony, where Jim was on a constant feedback loop of joy and happiness shared with Spock and amplified by having his friends and family around him.  A quick swab for genetic material across their wrists and the little incubator glowed green, indicating it was supporting the an official Kirk-S'chn T'gai zygote.  Apparently conceptions parties were a thing now.  Sulu said he and his husband had one for little Demora.  Jim had missed that memo but had taken it all in stride. He still a little boggled that the little night stand sized box was going to be coming with them to the Enterprise and popping out a baby in eleven months (give or take seven weeks, by Vulcan gestation) like a baby-making toaster oven.

Peter was plastered to it, staring into the view window and squinting into its depths.

"Is that Spot in there? Really?"

Jim grinned, squeezing Spock's hand for the umpteenth time that evening.  "Yep. That's your cousin."

"Did everyone come to see me when I was made?"

Jim blinked owlishly, desperately looking for where Sam and Aurie went. "Uh... no..."

"Why not?"

"They... uh... didn't do the same... uhh... different technology..."

Spock allowed him to hang uncomfortably for a few more moments until coming to the rescue.

"Your parents had to wait until you were delivered to celebrate."

Peter looked up, considered Spock's words, and plastered himself back onto the incubator window, in search of Spot.

"Good talk," Jim whispered. "In the future, you get all the hard conversations, I dibs the diapers."

Spock considered carefully, and then nodded his acceptance.

"So, are you ready tackle child rearing in Starfleet on a exploratory mission, where no parent has gone before?"

"I do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And they all lived happily ever after.
> 
> Woohoo! It's done!
> 
> I leave it to your imaginations who little Spot will grow up to be. I don't think they're going to stick with Spot, but who knows? Maybe the Kirk-S'chn T'gai family needs a pet!
> 
> Thank you gentle reader, I really appreciate being able to share this story with you and hear your thoughts. You've made me laugh and smile and cheer and snort water up my nose and you've spread joy just by being here and reading. High fives and chocolate for the official ending of my first story :-)
> 
> All of my best best wishes for you, walkandtalk

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again gentle readers!
> 
> I'm really delighted to finally add the last installment of this fun series. So whether you are a new reader or you've been a reader before, a quiet reader or one who has left me kudos and mental chocolate in the comments, hello and thanks for reading, hugs for all of you :-) - walkandtalk


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